


Reconstruction

by vega_voices



Series: The Tears of the Prophets [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief, Mourning, Rebuilding, Tekeny Ghemor - Freeform, the occupation of bajor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: That is the meaning of the death chant. It is to give us the space, the time, the meditation to accept that our pain is ours alone. We can share in it, as in the chant. We can feel the communal sense of loss, but in the end, Nerys, we have to find our own way through pain and grief. How you would mourn is not how I would. Our meditations teach us this.
Relationships: Kira Nerys/Shakaar Edon
Series: The Tears of the Prophets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568326
Kudos: 5





	Reconstruction

**Title:** Reconstruction  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Series:** Tears of the Prophets  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: Deep Space 9  
**Pairing:** Kira/Shakaar  
**Rating:** M  
**Timeframe:** (post) Ties of Blood and Water  
**A/N:** I have two great romantic loves on DS9: Shakaar and Bareil. What if instead of asking why Kira keeps getting sucked in to romances with bland men, I wish more people would see that she is in love with leaders of her people, warriors and monks, who have given everything in the cause of survival.  
**Disclaimer:** Per usual, I make no money from this. However, if the powers that be are looking for someone to write the epic of the Occupation, I’m down.

 **Summary:** _That is the meaning of the death chant. It is to give us the space, the time, the meditation to accept that our pain is ours alone. We can share in it, as in the chant. We can feel the communal sense of loss, but in the end, Nerys, we have to find our own way through pain and grief. How you would mourn is not how I would. Our meditations teach us this._

Here, Nerys felt safe. It wasn’t just the comfortable apartment or the big bed with the soft blankets and pillows so deep she lost herself in them. No, it was here, when Edon’s arms circled her after she’d gasped his name, when she rested his head on his chest and his fingers tugged through her hair, when his lips pressed against her temple and he whispered her name in that way that simultaneously set fire to and soothed every nerve ending in her body, she felt that nothing bad could ever touch her.

Prophets, she loved him. She’d resisted the term, resisted the emotional connection. After all, she’d loved Antos and he’d loved Caldra and it was harder than either of them wanted to admit to allow themselves to move on. Both of them were scared that the feelings were more about past security than current connection. It had taken Kirayoshi’s birth to realize how silly they were being.

 _I love you_ , he’d whispered at the airlock, his arms tightly around her. _I love you so much and seeing you … Nerys, I’m so sorry you …_

 _I love you too,_ she’d replied, tears hot on her cheeks. _And … I know._

Love was something that came easily to Nerys. Being _in_ love was not. But she was, deeply, in love with Edon.

“I love you,” she murmured as she rolled close, pressing her lips to his chest. She’d moved past the nerves of saying it to needing to tell him every chance she had. Especially today. Tangling her fingers in the hair on his chest, she forced away the waves of fear - what if something happened to him? What if she lost him?

“Same,” he said, his tone mirroring hers. She smiled at the tender reassurance and loosened her grip on him. His hand traced lazily down her arm and Nerys closed her eyes, listening to the subdued sounds of the world outside the First Minister’s private apartments. Little did they all know that just a few moments ago, their planetary leader had been cursing to the heavens while she worked him with her mouth. It was their first time together since the baby had been born and she fully intended to make the most of it.

Nerys loved that he understood the cloud in her eyes when she’d arrived, unannounced, in his office. One of four people who had walk-in privileges, she rarely took advantage of them when she was planetside. She respected how busy he was and that the last thing he needed was personal distractions. Still, he’d taken one look at her and known what she needed even before she did. He’d waved off his staff and taken her in his arms, holding her tight to shelter her from the world. A reminder that no matter what else, she came first. They came first. Today, she needed that. Waving his staff off had turned into wrapping his arm around her and walking with her to his apartment where without another word, they’d fallen in a tangle of limbs and clothes and spent the better part of the afternoon reminding each other about the power of living.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I know you were busy.”

“You saved me from the most mundane budget meeting ever,” he chuckled. “I mean, I’ll have to go back at some point, but this was a very welcome distraction.”

“That’s okay, I can sleep.” She stretched out against him.

“You look like you haven’t had much of it lately.” He sat up a bit to look at her and Nerys rolled to her back, tracing the lines of his face. “I heard about Ghemor,” he said quietly. “Nerys, I wish …”

“I couldn’t think beyond the walls of my quarters, Edon. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t. I just wish you’d had me there with you.” He stroked her cheek. “I wish I’d been able to be there with you. Been able to bury him with you.”

“I needed to do it myself.” She trailed her fingers over one of the scars on his arm. “For myself, for Da, for Tekeny.”

“I can understand that.” He kissed her again but before Nerys could pull him close again, a beep sounded from the comm panel, a reminder that life waited beyond the confines of this bedroom. “Shrel,” Edon cursed. “Just when it was getting good.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t good earlier?” Nerys sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her body.

“You’re evil,” Edon said, leering at her as he pulled his discarded shirt over his chest. She grinned and stretched back out across the bed, wrapping her arms around his pillow. “Can you stay the night?”

“I can,” she said, her eyes closing. “You should probably shower, you know.” She really was tired. Bone tired. The tired that only came with a watch having come to an end.

She heard him chuckle. “Noted. I’ll be back later, then. And we’ll talk.” She felt him bend over and kiss her temple, but Nerys was asleep before he left the apartment.

***

She woke to the smell of fresh heilin, grilled maka onions, and the sweet smell of ripe kava. With a groan, Nerys rolled over, checked the chronometer, and allowed the fatigue to fall to the wayside for just a moment. If she didn’t, she’d stay in bed all night and Edon would be cooking just for himself.

Slowly, she stretched and made her way to the sonic shower and changed into a pair of loose pants and a comfortable tunic. When had she started keeping clothes at his place? Nerys lingered in the mirror for just a moment, running her fingers through her short hair. What had once been a symbol of pride, a reminder that the Cardassians hadn’t killed her during the purge, had evolved into a look of confidence. Still, maybe it was time to finally grow it out.

“Nerys?”

She’d worry about her looks later. From the smell of it, dinner was almost ready. “It’s late,” Nerys teased lightly as she emerged from the bedroom and came up behind Edon, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m surprised you didn’t eat at the office.”

“And when was the last time you ate?” he chided. Nerys kissed him between his shoulder blades before moving to get a glass of water. “Seriously, Nerys.”

“I don’t remember.” She snagged a slice of kava, realizing in that moment just how hungry she was. She had barely eaten while taking care of Tekeny and when she was sulking in her quarters about the military record she should have expected to see, her appetite had vanished. Giving Edon room to work, she took a seat at the small table in the kitchen and stared out the window. Outside, the night sky was lit by the moons and the government complex below glowed with dim blue lights. It was late.

Edon put a plate of kava in front of her and returned to the counter. “Hence why I’m cooking. Anyway, I get tired of eating in the office.”

He was silent for a long minute and Nerys let herself enjoy the quiet.

“Sometimes …” Edon’s voice was soft, “sometimes I forget that the Occupation only lasted fifty years. Every day felt like a decade, and so many of us died. I forget that for so long, before Cardassia ruined themselves, the Cardassians and the Bajora were allies and friends.” Nerys looked over at her lover and oldest friend. He met her eyes and Nerys let a tear fall. “There are people alive today on both worlds who were friends before the Occupation. We’ve been falling in and out of love and caring for each other for thousands of years.” He placed the kava salad and the heilin down on the table. Nerys reached up and took his hand.

He was right and they didn’t need to say anything else. Not right now. Her caring for Tekeny was not out of the realm of a tradition of friendship that stretched back thousands of years. The Cardassians had always been conquerors, the Bajora always the peacemakers. Two sides of the same quadrant, after all. _Grief is something you carry alone_ , Prylar Quen had told her after she’d returned from Betazed, after she’d left Meru in the hands of the nurses who would make sure her daughter found a good home. _That is the meaning of the death chant. It is to give us the space, the time, the meditation to accept that our pain is ours alone. We can share in it, as in the chant. We can feel the communal sense of loss, but in the end, Nerys, we have to find our own way through pain and grief. How you would mourn is not how I would. Our meditations teach us this._ She kissed Edon’s hand and released him so he could bring the rest of dinner to the table. “Tell me about your day.” That elicited a groan and Nerys suppressed a smile.

When Shakaar had taken office, the first thing he’d done was remove the term “Provisional” from the government setup. _We are capable of governing ourselves,_ he’d said in his inaugural address, _and I for one am tired of waiting to see when the next provisional minister will fail. It’s time we set higher expectations for ourselves!_ However, in doing that, he’d created an expectation not just of his own people, but of how other governments looked at them. Edon didn’t have the patience for infighting. He expected those elected to lead to come to a consensus for a perfectly functioning and stable structure. A year into his leadership and five years removed from the Occupation, the Bajoran Government was still anything but.

She understood his frustration.

So many resources were still dependent on Federation charity. Yes, with every passing day, farmland was reclaimed, businesses and shops were opened, and schools were filled to bursting with children and adults desperate to learn. But for every hecatate of farmland finding success with new methods of bringing the soil back to life, there were still entire provinces ravaged to the brink of complete ecosystem collapse. Businesses only survived because of government subsidy, and the schools might have had filled classrooms, but supplies were limited and qualified teachers hard to come by. For fifty years, school had been circles in the refugee camps or whispered lessons in the monasteries. Teaching the basics of reading was one thing. Teaching the intricacies of Bajoran history was another. Worse, unlearning two generations of law and order and returning their people to a communal based sense of policing was far more difficult than anyone had anticipated. It was so easy to hold on to power through the use of a phaser.

If anyone could bring their people through this transition, Nerys knew it was Edon. But she worried the effort would kill him faster than any lingering Cardassian injury ever would. So, she let him vent, because it was easier than thinking about her father or Tekeny or Furel or her brothers or so many others who hadn’t made it to see Bajor made free again. This was their shared pain, their communal grief. This was the world they had never expected to see.

“You know,” Nerys said when he finally took a breath in his rant about education budgets, “you could go through the Kai.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Winn is predictable,” Nerys said. “She wants religious-based learning over everything else. It’s political for her. But, you have entire swaths of monks who want to teach. That’s been shown. They already are doing it. Every monastery has a school at this point.”

“Yes …” he nodded, clearly wondering when she’d get to her point.

“So, keep funding those efforts. She doesn’t know what every monk is doing at every monastery school. They already have their own structure set up and they were operating it during the Occupation, they were operating it before she was elected.” She took a breath. “Bareil wanted to establish each of these schools as training centers, and use money directed to the Vedek assembly to help secure safe classrooms for people of all ages. Winn will only let that money go if they are teaching strict religious curriculum. So, use her. I guarantee that every single one of the monks teaching now knew how to circumvent the system under Cardassian rule.” She sighed. “Winn is a megalomaniac but she also does want to see something rise from the ashes. I’ve learned that much. Tell her you’ll match funds for the schools. Give the vedeks local control. They’ll know how to deal with her rules and get around them better than any secular politician.”

Edon visibly relaxed. “That … makes so much sense.”

“And, technically, you double the education budget because you’re matching her funds and she’s going to want to save face and look like she’s doing everything she can to educate Bajor. I guarantee you that the monastery schools will be funded and then you can focus on rebuilding the ones in the rural areas and the cities that were hit the hardest.”

Edon reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a place in my cabinet?”

She laughed and moved over to sit in his lap. Nerys reached for a slice of kava and fed it to him, grinning when he sucked the juice from her fingers. “Now, how would that look? You putting your girlfriend in the cabinet? A girlfriend who is pretty vocal about her opinions of many of the ministers.”

He shared her laugh and took a turn feeding her a slice of kava. She returned the favor of sucking the drops of sweet juice from his fingers. Edon shifted under her and she adjusted her position, giving his hand more access to her thigh. “It’s true,” he teased, running his fingers up and down the inside of her leg. “I do need you up on DS9, where you are my ally to the Emissary.”

“Exactly.” She chuckled and pressed her forehead against his. “Edon, you’re doing a great job. You know that, right?”

“I know … that I couldn’t do it without you.”

She wanted to argue the point, but not when he kissed her like she was the only woman on Bajor. Not when he forgot about dinner and moved them over to the couch where she straddled his lap and he made quick work of her tunic. They just didn’t get enough time together.

***

Per usual, she was up before dawn. They both were. She needed to get back to the station, needed to help Starfleet and Bajor dissect all of the information Tekeny had revealed during his last days. So much intelligence. How much of it was still, truly, useful? But sitting on Shakaar’s balcony, watching the sun rise in the final dance of the day with the setting moon, she realized just how much she missed life here on solid ground.

Maybe it was time to think about a change.

Behind her, Edon emerged onto the balcony and put a mug of coffee down on the small table for her. She glanced up and thanked him with a smile but from the way he tilted his head, she could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Ghemor was at Kieassa,” she said after Edon sat down. “Dukat did what I didn’t have the guts to do - he gave me full access to the military record.”

She waited out Edon’s silence, feeling the rage pass through him. Nerys hadn’t even been born yet when Kieassa had been raided, but she knew Edon remembered the massacre. He’d spoken more than once about standing in his ravaged village and being able to see the flames leaping from the building from an entire province away. Kieassa was a calling card for so many resistance fighters, the reminder that everything - especially their religion - had been taken from them during the Occupation.

“He was nineteen,” she continued after a long sip of coffee. “I was so shaken, so broken by it.”

“He was a young man, enlisted for a cause he’d been brainwashed about. A lot of Cardassians outgrew that phase,” Edon finally said. “But, I can understand why you were so angry.”

“I’m still angry,” she replied. “At him. At Dukat. At every collaborator and every traitor. I’m angry that we need the Federation at all. I’m angry that the Dominion is a thing.” Nerys closed her eyes, seeing her father’s tortured face hovering before her. “I’m angry that I didn’t get to raise my daughter. I’m angry my brothers didn’t live to see the end of the Occupation. I’m angry Caldra had to die and that Antos sacrificed himself to keep our people together. I’m angry at all of it.”

“Grief is something we share, but carry alone,” Edon said, reaching over to take her hand. She met his eyes and they both laughed. “Quen was a good man. He also had a tendency to say the same thing over and over again.” He leaned forward, still matching her gaze. “In the end, Nerys, Ghemor did the right thing. He did the honorable thing.”

“I know.”

“We’re all just figuring this out, every single day. We’re the ones who have to live with our reconstruction. Let the historians figure out if we did it right.”

Nerys sighed and nodded, releasing her hand to reach for her coffee again. He was right. Below them, the gates of the complex opened and in the distance, a street vendor could be heard hocking kava rolls for breakfast. In the monastery, vedeks would be preparing lessons for the day. Restaurants would open soon, and the bandaged souls of Bajor would emerge into the sunlight for another day of rebuilding.

“You know,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “There is a lot of information that Ghemor gave me that would be good to go over with Bajoran intelligence while it’s all still fresh.”

He shared her grin. “And the Intelligence Minister is a busy woman. She might not be able to see you for at least a day or two.”

“You mean, I wouldn’t warrant an emergency chat?”

“I think, perhaps, she’d want to clear her schedule,” Edon teased.

Kira sighed and crossed one leg over the other, watching the city as it came to life. “It would be a shame to waste all that time back in the runabout just to have to come back again.”

“I’m sure she could make the time to come up to you. A joint meeting with Starfleet, perhaps.” A pause. “But, you are already here.”

Kira grinned and reached for Edon’s hand again. “Yes. I am.”

He linked their fingers. “Before you go, let’s go to the graves together.”

A pause. In the courtyard, she could see Sirus Rezh racing for his office. Edon’s day would soon begin. “I’d like that,” she finally said.

Not all grief had to be carried alone.


End file.
